Scaramouche was never without some kind of work to do. He was a Fatui Harbinger, for crying out loud. None of them probably knew the meaning of the word “relax” or any of its synonyms.

However, when it came to you, the normally cold and stoic Harbinger seemed to grow quite soft.

Scaramouche was sat at his desk in his room, looking over some notes and reports Dottore had given him. He was supposed to be reading the small, hardly legible comments the doctor had written on the documents, but a certain baby in his lap was taking up all of his attention.

“Oh really?” Scara mumbled, a fond smile on his face as he listened to you babble away at him. You were sitting on his lap with one of your soft toys, talking up a storm to him. It even got a couple chuckles out of him.